A Torn Soul
by Necronosis
Summary: 100 years after the fall of king reginald and the nameless keeper, the depths stir anew. The goodly heroes forge a plan to forever crush evil; to send an agent of their own. But whom will this shattered being choose to side with?
1. Prologue Demise of Kings

Prologue – Demise of Kings

Laughter penetrated the halls and tunnels, laughter of the mad, laughter of the deceased. Where only minutes earlier battle cries and the agonizing screams of the dying had reigned, only the maniac laughter would now be heard. Victory had been claimed and had caused the madness to come forth, the madness of the famed Nameless keeper. It was he who had been causing the caverns to echo and tremble with his mere voice. From the very heart of his dungeon to the portal of light his voice was ever present, the head of the mighty king Reginald that had foiled evil's plans for centuries in his hands. Victory… none of his minions dared interfere, and even the reaper himself showed in face of this keeper's triumph. At last, the underworld had been claimed, and with it all portal gems.

The darkness could no longer hold him, he knew that.

"_Finally… sunlight… fresh air… __warmth…"_

The Nameless One muttered as he walked slowly towards the portal to the above world. A march of the victorious, and it was one he enjoyed to its greatest extent. It was after all the moment he had worked for since he first was awoken by the Horned Reaper who had sensed his potential. Goblins hailed his name, Dark Angels worshipped his work and even mistresses covered in fear when facing his wrath. The impossible had been achieved with the blow that had separated the very head he still held. It was a trophy never to be given up and a symbol of ultimate control. As he walked on further throughout the corridors he decided that this skull should be kept secure by the very ones it had brought forth; Felix, Balder and Tristram, the king's sons whom he had captured and turned into his own generals as vampires.

"_After all, who would be better suited for the task?"_ he thought. _"Or what do you say, my dear Reginald? Wouldn't you be glad to be reunited with your offspring?"_

Grinning he stared into the glassy eyes of the separated body part, its mouth still gapping and covered in the dried blood that had run out from it. The warrior who had landed the fatal blow would earn a position amongst his generals, thus he decided. As unlikely it seemed, it had been a goblin of all creatures, but maybe it made sense… what other being could have been underestimated so fatally?

"_Pure water…"_

The laughter had long since subsided and his voice, silent as he spoke, echoed towards every living being left on the field of battle. Striding across the bridge that led to Reginald's old stronghold a group of Black Knights met him and kneeled as soon they became aware of his presence. Fools, but they had proven useful to him. Battle had left its marks on them; bloodied swords, broken armours and wounds that could still cost them their lives if they were not tended to. All but one knight bore these. He stopped.

"_Rise, warriors__"_ They obeyed his order. _"You have fought well…"_

The men clad in dark metal lowered their heads in respect.

"_What I cannot help but wonder…"_ he directed his attention towards the unharmed knight _"is why you seem to be unharmed. Warrior, tell me."_

The knight seemed at unease, and rightfully so. He knew that no keeper was keen of cowardess, and that his master could be unforgiving.

"_My… my lord... I, I was unable to reach the __enemies quickly enough… the battle was over before I met it"_ As he replied, his armour trembled. As did he within it.

"_So you were not with your brethren as they fought in the front lines…"_ He concluded. The knight started breathing unsteady, fear ridden eyes behind the visor of his helmet, but he did not dare speak out against his master. After short silence the clang of metal hitting stone echoed. The keeper looked towards the cause and found one of the more severely injured knights had collapsed onto all four. He coughed, and blood dripped out underneath the helmet.

"_You on the other hand fought bravely, even if perhaps foolishly"_ Gaze now upon the mortally wounded knight.

A grin spread across the Keeper's face, and he waved his head through the air towards the wounded band, particularly the one about to die. Silence spread among them. The band clearly knew the healing powers that Keepers wielded, but hadn't ever expected to see such magic used for other reasons then that of allowing sustained torture.

"_Feel your strength return, steady yourself. I have a task for you"_ The hooded keeper spoke. _"You will take this, my most valuable trophy and bring it to the princes. There you shall guard it along with them and know the splendour life has to offer. As for you…"_ he turned towards the untouched knight _"I will need means by which to prove who sent this group. Turn around and kneel."_

The knight hesitated, but obeyed. Soon his screams ripped through the air as the keeper begun melting the armour on his back into glyphs, forming a living letter. _"Your shame is forever burnt into your skin, along with my orders… you will know death and an eternity as a fleshless guard. Go now and rest before you proceed to Butterscotch, and take this wretch with you"_

The other knights more dragged then bore their tortured comrade as they walked off towards the lair. Again alone, the keeper returned to his path. It was not long before he started to walk across the bloodied tiles where both heroes and his servants had died. Some corpses still remained, but the imps had long since started bringing the dead to the graveyard. Not for burial, no… but to call forth vampires. Even in face of ultimate victory resources should not be wasted. Pride is what had cost his greatest rival, Nemesis, his life. As long he himself resided in this hell of a world he would not rest or in any other way leave his remaining opponents a chance, no matter how few or how weak they were.

"_The sky…"_

He could imagine its beauty and how he would claim it as his own. As he turned around the last corner of his path, light shone from a not too distant chamber. Along the way Dark Angles kneeled, an honour they usually only showed the dark gods themselves. A smile spread across his face. At the end of his path lay the portal to the above world, radiating with pure, white light. Horny, the horned reaper, stood next to it. With a short bow the giant creature with flaming red flesh welcomed his chosen master. He bore the same smile of satisfaction, not unlike that of the hooded keeper. As the two met, the demon stretched out his arm to reveal what he was holding; the final portal gem, the last key required.

"_May the honour be yours, my friend…"_ the scythe wielding giant spoke. This respect not even the keeper had expected. He knew that a Horniculus, such as Horny, hailed none. Their allegiance was earned by display of might, and even then their temper was infamous. It was the best one could do to have them fight on ones own side, but this was unthinkable.

The keeper chuckled, and then burst into laughter. Apparently that was what the demon had been aiming at, for he too began laughing. Their kind truly was unpredictable, but didn't lack a sense of humour, no matter how twisted it was.

As soon they were done, the keeper carefully removed the gem from Horny's hand, still unsure whether the later had been joking or not. He then proceeded to place the gem along with the others in the sphere that was crafted to hold them. Within it they floated in the air, it seemed. Once the last gem had aligned itself with the others, they pulsed and gave off bright blue, brilliant light. As the light grew stronger, so did the rumbling that slowly began to fill the caverns, and the doors that were the last barrier between above and below started to part.

"_You've proven to be the worthy of my aid it turned out. Something not many can claim of themselves and live"_

This time he knew the demon was not joking, for it was equally much a threat as it was a compliment. Impatience was written into his face, as he displayed his jabbing yellow teeth the way he usually did. _"Let's see to it that the world beyond this point knows so as well"_

"_We will, in due time. Let us now bathe in the glory of our __triumph."_ He replied as he stepped forward in an ever steady gait towards the opened pathway. Stepping into the light he beheld the ancient forces at work that brought up. Everything grew bright white around him and he embraced the spell that linked the portal to the sunlit realm. When the light subsided he needed some moments to adjust his vision. Above him, far above him, were tiny white lights in a dark sky. The space around him was vast. Nothing a life in endless corridors and dug-out-halls ever hinted to be possible. The land around him was green and lush, except for the altar he was standing on. It was an amazing sight for one who had lived his life only in dungeons. Just as soon he finished marvelling the sky, another bright flash of light appeared out of nowhere behind him before it too disappeared forever. Whirling around he wished to greet the reaper, but was met by nothing. Wondering what was going on, a small reflection from the ground caught his attention. It was nothing other then a portal gem. Not any portal gem, for it was flawed and its brilliance had begun to fade. This was the very first portal gem that had been passed into his possession.

"_What in the name of…"_ his words were cut off by of a silent whistle and a following thud. Directing his vision downward he gazed upon a wooden shaft embedded in his chest. Without even wincing he grabbed it and ripped it out, and just as soon as he did another two followed the first.

"_Imbeciles… you shall burn…"_ Trying to focus his magic, but the spells would not yield to his will. He realized; this far away from his domain's magical heart he was without power. Another arrow struck him, this one in the shoulder. Making a step forward soon a fifth joined its brethren and hit his stomach. With the pain growing greater he could no longer stand upright.

"_The gem… you planned this all along… you wanted me without power, without servants…"_ Another three arrows whistled through the night.

"_The portal will reopen… somehow evil will find a way… you will pay…"_ His mind whirled around. The darkness of night and the darkness of his thoughts became the same. He heard the silent thud of a falling body, his body. Then everything faded away as he lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter 1 Fate of the Earthwalking

Chapter 2: Fate of the Earthwalking

"_Lord, wait! Lord Tamrael! I beg you, just wait for me a moment!"_

He let out a sigh, then turned to frown at the monk that hurried after him. The later was still young, barely a grown man by what he knew the human's standards to be. In his hands the student of the holy arts held something long wrapped in brown cloth. It didn't take Tamrael long to realize what.

"_Sire, surely you didn't intend to leave without your blessed blade?"_ The young monk uttered under heavy breath as he reached his master. He let the exhausted human rest a moment, but kept the gaze of his pure white eyes upon him without blinking. When the monk had caught his breath again he quickly bowed and held forth the wrapped sword.

"_I'm merely escorting him to the altar. Had I seen reason to bring my sword, I would have."_ He replied with a deep, yet kind, voice. The sound of it resonated within the white temple halls for a few moments before it faded. As with any seraph, it sounded as if it had multiple layers. Hearing these words, the expression on the monks face changed. He seemed to have lost confidence in his actions. It was the face of a man loosing the ground beneath his feet.

"_Sire, I'm sorry… I didn't mean to offend you. I… I shall take it back to your chambers immediately."_ By the time the monk had put his apology together he had already bowed and half turned towards the path he had come from.

"_No."_ Tamrael replied. _"I will take it with me, now that you have already brought it to me. Next time however I would appreciate if you asked me first. Child, what is your name?"_

Confusion was written over the monk, but he quickly handed the sword over. _"Bob, sire. My name is Bob Baredson."_ He answered while bowing again. _"You have my thanks, Bob Baredson. Please, go retire for the rest of the day. I can see the prayers have taken heavy toll on you."_ The request he uttered was true and justified. There was weariness in the robed figure's eyes. He had to confess to himself however that he partly said so because he wished for the monk to leave. With a quick nod the monk thanked him, then they parted ways.

Tamrael, he thought. It was a name given to him by the humans the day he began walking the earth. As with any other earthwalking angel, he too had lost most of his memory. Nobody could tell why. Among the few memories that remained their own was their rank among angels. He had been one of the searing ones, one of the seraphim. It eluded him why he had come to earth. Few remembered the reasons, and most of those who did were those who had become outcasts even from human society. For a while he pondered as he walked towards the cathedral's catacombs where his well-protected destination was. Somehow he was rather glad to have his sword with him after all. Human blades were strong, but this blade was evidently forged by other powers. It was long and thin, but as strong as a broadsword, stronger in fact. Along the razor edge the blade emitted faint white light. It had the strength to sear demons or cleanse corrupted souls when it struck. He admired the blade for a while longer before putting it away just to realize where he was.

By now he had reached the cold sandstone stairs that led down towards the dungeon he was headed for. Time, it seemed, passed fast when he wasn't watching it carefully. Down in these halls the air was colder, moist and damp, but he knew that this particular cold originated from another source. A being that was held down there, and to be more precise, the being he was going to meet. He was not afraid of it, but couldn't help feel the slight sense of dread that lingered in this prison. It was, after all, their most safeguarded prisoner. Only few knew he even existed. It didn't take him long to reach the end of the stairs leading down below. Admittedly he had never been down here, but he knew all too well who resided behind the door that had met him at the bottom.

Iron clad guards wielding heavy pikes stood on either side of the door. Their purple tabards indicated their royal standing and thereby the incredible amount of training they had absolved. As Tamrael approached them they quickly straightened up and ceased their conversation. Usually fighters of their rank knew limitless discipline, but he couldn't blame them. Down here nothing had happened for as long as they had lived. Probably even longer.

"_At ease, I have been sent to escort him."_ Saying this he handed he royal guard with a golden badge his orders. He didn't like being ordered around by humans, but in this case he knew it to be necessary.

"_Alright sir, you may enter."_ The guard replied short.

"_I will need a bit of time to brief__ the prisoner on our situation."_

"_Understood."_

As the captain of the four warders unlocked the door Tamrael let out a sigh. He was not too keen of their military behaviour in terms of conversation. It seemed cold… indifferent. A creak sounded heavily in the otherwise silent corridor and the prison beyond the door as it opened. Tamrael entered and quickly the door was shut and locked again. The prison was pitch black, but he didn't have to adjust his vision. To him even the night was as clear as the day. A trait of being born among the Seraphim, he guessed. When the clang of iron against iron had subsided he spotted the robed figure that sat on the ground within his prison cell.

"_Over one hundred years… one hundred seven long years, and this is the first time you decide to pay me a visit?" _the prisoner spoke. Tamrael didn't know what how to reply.

"_You know, old friend… the design of__ a prison doesn't vary too much between my people and the ones you serve… although the term 'dungeon' seems like a bit of an overstatement to me…"_ he continued, sweeping his gaze across the room. _"Tell me, why is it that you have come after all this time?"_

"_I am surprised you manage to keep track of time down here."_ Tamrael finally replied to his 'old friend'. He didn't know whether to like being referred to that way or not.

"_We live our entire lives underground and you think we do not know how to track time? I believed your kind to be schooled more then the imbeciles outside."_ The prisoner had a point. _"You're evading my question…" _The prisoner then said.

"_Very well. We've received information that the depths become a threat once again, and the king has decided we should take advantage of our… resources."_ Tamrael nearly spat the last words. No matter what this being had done in _its_ past, he could not stand to refer to living beings as resources.

"_Me... but I ask you, what can tell you? And even more importantly, what can you offer me in return?"_ The captive demanded.

"…_As it stands, a single keeper has risen up among the others and proven to be dominating most of the underworld.__ The last pieces are close to a fall"_ Tamrael continued.

"_And again, you avoid my questions."_ The robed man behind iron bars repeated.

"_We will offer you neither freedom nor power. And you know well that you're too valuable to be simply killed, so an extended life is out of question as well. You probably figured this already."_

"_Thus I did. Well then, why should I then help you? After all you have not shown kindness either. Not even so much as a small visit to an… old friend?" _the prisoner replied with a smile, but he was obviously beginning to lose interest.

"_Because there is one thi__ng we can offer you" _Tamrael said.

"_And what could that possibly be?"_ The prisoner asked mockingly.

"_I… believe you're familiar with the one known as Nemesis?"_ asked, knowing all too well the supposed 'old friend' did.

The moment Tamrael uttered the name the prisoner's eyes flashed, however briefly, but he knew his counterpart had taken interested.

"_What we can offer you, is a chance for __vengeance…"_ The seraph offered.

"_Vengeance, revenge… merely a justification of the same acts…"_ Replied the hooded prisoner absently, he was already lost in thoughts.

Silence reclaimed stone room. The faint glow of Tamrael's sword illuminated only a few iron bars that were covered in a measureable amount of ice. It was freezing down here, a result of the prisoner aura. Time passed on and the captive that Tamrael carefully watched had lowered his head and was now deep in concentration. It was a risky plan they pursued, uncertain at best. It depended on the prisoner's cooperation. His value in war was undeniable, if he decided to assist them. But equally undeniable was the threat he could become. After all he had brought an entire underworld domain to its knees and made it his playground.

Eyeing someone such as this in deep thought was fearsome even to an earthwalking seraph. True, they were powerful, but they were as much mortals in this plane as humans, at least concerning unnatural deaths go. Losing his patience, and it would take a seraph much longer to lose, he finally added: _"Perhaps you would like to know that it was Nemesis who aided in making us… 'old friends', as you like to call it"_

The temperature in the cell dropped further as the prisoner tilted his head back and revealed his skull. At the first glance he seemed human, but anyone foolish enough to believe so would have soon been convinced otherwise. Long white hair fell far beneath his shoulders, thin as spider-silk and equally webbed. His features were not much different from what a man may look like. The sharp eyebrows that could have belonged to a hawk crowned black eyes. A crooked nose and pale mouth were embraced by skin that seemed to be pure white. Veins lay close to the surface in many places and formed an intricate design that could almost be mistaken for runic tattoos of some sort. Truly outstanding however were the near avian form of the skull, with its narrow appearance and spear-head chin that was only slightly camouflaged by a short goatee of the same spider hair.

"_Apparently my methods were less efficient than I had anticipated…"_ The ghost of a man spoke. He sounded perfectly calm, but the seraph knew the continuous drop of temperature proved otherwise. Tamrael could not describe this being as anything other than cold. Perhaps a trait that it had been born with or perhaps a result of half an eternity spent underground.

"_Very well, I admit you__ have caught my interest, seraph… Allow me to know which part I shall play in this grand display of righteous fury as it shall soon echo forth in my underworld theatre…."_

_Author's Note:__

_Firstly, thanks to anyone who has bothered reading this. Writing is something I love doing, but without knowledge that it IS in fact read, I quickly lose interest in a particular story. Secondly, I know that the updates, style, grammar and story likely will not live up to people's expectations. Least of all my own. Therefore I don't only encourage, but request whoever read this make a short review where he/she is as merciless as humanly possible. Break my work into pieces. Rip it to shreds. I direly am in need of criticism that will reveal to me my flaws. Do however try to go beyond the point of "This sucks" and form a reasonable critique of it. _

_I know there are probably few readers for the fanfics of this particular game, but in case you know anyone who may enjoy it, please do spread it. The work of a creative soul is ment to be seen, not overlooked. _

_That said I can only ask this: Read. Review. Without shown interest there won't be more and what there is won't improve! Depending on demand this stuff will keep coming out faster. _


	3. Chapter 2 Foreseen Complications

Chapter 2 – Foreseen Complications

The path from the icy prison to the altar at which they had long ago captured him, and at which they now intended to reopen a pathway, was of no great distance. Tamrael had chosen to brief the keeper in part on the way to this place once the later had agreed to assist them.

"_I'm surprised none of your wizards have died trying to use the gem…"_ the imprisoned keeper said with moot interest. _"The magic within them is volatile at best, and using one that is still attuned to a dungeon heart is sheer madness, not even a bile demon would be stupid enough to try that"_. It was something Tamrael simply couldn't object to. He had predicted that the little, blue gem could not be controlled without this being's help, and indeed, many spell casters had nearly lost their lives in the fruitless attempts to do so. _"So you wish for me to open a gate so that your people may pass through? Did your people not build the hero gates and create the portal gems in the first place?"_

The comment made Tamrael hesitate momentarily. He was not sure whether the keeper had referred to the human races or the heavenly ones to which he had once belonged. Did this nameless keeper know something he did not? Or perhaps was that just what the cunning keeper had intended for? A devious smile graced his mouth, but it did so often… more often than not in fact. He decided not to inquire further on the matter, lest he might give the hooded figure an edge over the uncertain seraph. Trust was not something to be directed towards anyone that had been born underneath ground, less even towards a keeper, and least of all this particular one, who had proven himself to be the most ruthless, cruel, cunning and perhaps even mad of them all.

"_Ah, I had nearly forgotten… the curse of amnesia, is it? You were thrown out of the heavens and you do not even know why… you truly despise the gods for that, do you not… old friend?"_ The keeper said, wearing another one of his devious smiles_. "Hold your tongue keeper. I may not remember, but I'm still very much aware of your intention. You will not turn me"_ Tamrael replied with more confidence than he actually harboured. In truth, he did wonder why he had been the only seraph to be cast out of heaven. _"We have little time for pointless chat and I am as eager to be done with this as you are to make Nemesis' life harder"_ Tamrael told the keeper and took a deep breath; _"As you have noted, we require your aid to open a portal. The time spent on the surface must have left you with little magic to work with. We have several wizards who will let you guide their efforts, but you will not wield any magic directly, for obvious reasons…"_ The keepers smile turned into a reaper's grin at this. _"Why, old friend… do you not trust me anymore?"_ A short laugh escaped him. _"I would have expected that I was the one to no longer trust you, especially after all those enchanted arrows"_ at those last words he drew back the collar of his hood, revealing a scar that seemed to still be burning. It was formed slightly like a star, a scar left by the bolt fired from a crossbow. _"…holy water… despicable stuff…"_

After this little dispute it hadn't taken long Tamrael much longer to prepare the keeper. Merely a matter of security procedures and a discussion on what the keeper would need to complete for the spell work. The alchemic ingredients had been easy to gather from local monks, even though it left many of them infuriated. It was something Tamrael intended to later solve with the help of a few pints of ale, but for now he was with the guard captain in charge of watching the keeper. His purple tabard was framed in gold, an indication of higher rank. He seemed anxious, and for a good reason too. The nameless keeper had not been let out of his cell for twice as long as this man had lived. _"Do you think he has any plans to escape?"_ The human asked with unease. _"I do not only think so, I know so. It is all we can do to be prepared for whatever he may throw at us and hope to foil it"_ Tamrael said, well out of earshot from the nameless keeper who had now been put in chains and was being guarded not only by the royal guards of the current king, but also a number of lordly knights, not to mention a dozen of wizards and monks who remained a slight distance away.

"_Even so"_ he continued; _"should he manage to get himself to the underworld, at very least he will cause Nemesis a great deal of trouble, and ultimately buy us some time. Whether he means to or not_". Tamrael reasoned. _"I suppose you are right"_ the guard captain answered shortly. _"…but I don't like it one bit"_. Neither do I; Tamrael thought… then decided he better keep the keeper under his own watchful eye. The journey towards the altar was mostly uneventful, even dull. Occasionally a bystander or citizen would throw a fruit or a rock, and once a rotten egg was about to hit the keeper's head, had the later not used some magic to propel the smelly missile straight back to the one who had thrown it. Pride was one of the flaws by which keepers could be defeated, and it turned out this one's pride lead him to reveal he still was capable of minor magic feats. Tamrael kept an even closer eye on him after this, but the preparations of the spell seemed to go smoothly. As far he could see the keeper made no attempt at escape or sabotage. And while the evil being surely knew how to throw insults and taunts, he made seemingly was sincere about his cooperation. This made Tamrael even more anxious, which in turn made him flex his great feathery wings. He was sure that the keeper had his own schemes.

"_You seem worried, old friend… are you not pleased with the efforts I make to help you slay my kin?"_ A grin that could only be described as grim rested underneath the keeper's hood. The comment caught Tamrael off guard. He had expected that the keeper would need all his focus to ensure the success of the spell. Evidently he still had time to play tricks on the seraph's fragmented mind. _"What do you want, keeper?"_ Tamrael asked him, eager to change the subject. It was something about this particular evil that made his skin crawl, a most uncommon feeling for one of angelic descent.

"_Freedom, power, an army to purge this world of you heroes… there are many things I want"_ the keeper sighted ruefully_, "… the question is what I need. I have finished guiding your so-called wizards in preparing what will make out the base of the portal. I am amazed you consider these to be skilled spell casters. A few warlocks would have done the job without my guidance…"_

"_Alas, we sadly have no warlocks at our disposal. I suppose it is the portal gem you ask for?"_ Tamrael replied in false remorse. A warlock was the last thing he wanted here right now. Their knowledge of the dark arts was only surpassed by their everlasting hunger for more spells of destruction and havoc.

"_Indeed, but seeing how your wizards perform… I will be required to take part in the creation of the portal if we are to succeed. At best you will link with the old portal, and I assure you, Nemesis will have it heavily guarded"_ the keeper's diabolic visage turned to a smirk _"at very least if he learned anything from his encounter with me"_. Just as quickly as it had appeared the smirk now turned into an absent expression, the keeper was already thinking deeply again. Did he dwell in memories, Tamrael wondered, or did he perhaps put together his next great plan?

"_You ask for a lot, keeper. Allowing you to exit your prison alone is a great risk to take. How can we be sure you will not attempt to trick us?"_

"_Simple. You cannot. If you wish to send someone to the lands beneath you will have to trust us" _Tamrael didn't like how the keeper now had begun speaking absently. It seemed as if he hardly was aware of his surroundings anymore. It then struck him, 'us'? Had the keeper just said 'us'? Or had Tamrael perhaps just misunderstood him? None of the surrounding guards seemed to react or have taken notice, and these were highly trained men and women.

"_Very well, you shall have the portal gem as soon as we can begin."_ Tamrael told the keeper. In truth he was not very eager to have their presence noticed the instant the first dwarf set foot into the old catacombs. The element of surprise was one known to all, but it was nonetheless one of great effect, and if they could have it, even the better.

It was dark by now, and soon the moon would reach the highest point in the sky soon, only to spread its magnificent rays in a dazzling play of light and dark. He had heard the tales of the moon becoming so large that it would seem greater than even the sun, a moon that would charm the hearts of humans and let them be in love for an eternity. Tamrael however, in his many years walking earth, had never seen it become any greater or smaller… more wishful thinking that mortals were so fond of. It struck him then that this nigh peaceful night seemed a lot like the one when the nameless keeper had first set a foot into the world above his own. The stars were glistening high above on a clear sky and the surroundings were dressed in the deep greens of summer. Sometimes a tree would even appear to shimmer bluely in at the whim of the illuminating moon far above. It must be what also kept distracting the keeper. Ever since that one night he had been again been locked up underground. Would an entire life in caverns and prisons have the same effect on anyone? Was is truly their right to keep the demonic forces, no matter how grotesque, locked away from sight for eternity? Having now tasted the freedom and vastness of the world, the keeper would probably intend to claim it for himself.

A mild breeze stroke across Tamrael's stone face, forcing him to come back to senses. This was not the time for philosophical thoughts. The following night the moon would no longer be full, and they needed every tiny ounce of magic that was available to them. Forcing his disturbed mind to focus, he stepped into the radiating pentagram that made up the base of the spell. The keeper could not be trusted and he would personally monitor the work. Out of necessity they had already been forced to allow to him to create the magical patterns and weaves that would in turn create the portal. They had channelled into him a vast amount of magic that he could have abused at will, but even as it may have been tempting, Tamrael was sure the keeper was not so short-sighted. If he did envision a plan, it would be one of much greater extents. A century of imprisonment had given him by far enough time to plot.

Soon three wizards channelled their power into the circle, ever expanding the erratic magic that was formed by the keeper's artistic hands. Tamrael stood with them, not only watching but also granting part of his own strength. To one who was capable of seeing the strains of magic, the sight was marvellous… simply astonishing. Threads of divine light flew from Tamrael's open hands into the portal gems that lay still in the middle of their formation. The small piece of crystal seemed dull and old, not like anything that would hold such great power. Small flaws covered it in places and obscured what lay inside, but to Tamrael's eyes the inherent magic was evident. His sight allowed him not only a vision of the gems own magic, but of all the magic around them. His own like silver strains in the night, the wizards' purple and blue, shifting from one colour to another as if reflecting every change in their hearts and minds, and the keeper's; not at all as he would have expected. Instead of red or black, as was usual to their kind, the threads that seemed to float from him were brilliant gold, yet in some places they did make a tainted impression. All together they these threads appeared to form a pattern, a matrix, that slowly but steadily made its way into the gem. As they did they spread around the gems from all sides forming a tiny vortex that gave the impression of gradually absorbing anything around it. Tiny specs of dust that floated to close were quickly engulfed in the unstable forces at work, but these were not the only thing affected. The very moonlight bent on its way past the miniature gateway, being sucked into it. The tiny gem had also begun rotating in the middle of it all, apparently regaining some of its beauty in the process. Darkness was dancing in morbid patterns within, and Tamrael knew that the gem was being used against its purpose here. It was a key meant to lock a door, not open one. But there was no going back. Magic had begun working and it would not stop until its purpose had been fulfilled here. On and on they fed power into the small portal, and gradually it widened, absorbing falling leaves, dust and more moonlight. As far Tamrael could tell, it even seemed to affect the flow of time where they stood; a dazzling aspect of the portal. Slowly his attention wandered astray. It seemed to take the guards that were further away from the portal more time to move or act. At one point he thought he heard a call from someone, but it blurred together soon. From mighty sorcerers, a keeper and a seraph, they turned into gnats that were no match for what they had wrought. The violent currents of reality swept their minds around like twigs in a raging sea. Time lost all meaning and soon it was all Tamrael could do to not lose himself in face of it all.

Amidst all the confusion and all the impossibilities he ultimately saw at last what the keeper had been trying to achieve. The spell would collapse; there was no doubt about it. But not all distortion in the portal seemed to be of the keeper's origin. Somehow the magic of the seraph seemed to conflict with the rest, destabilizing it. In parts of the portal time was now also flowing backward. It was expanding and contracting over and over, but across it one thing was in clear sight; A wicked, malevolent grin on the keeper's strain-ridden face. Tamrael had believed the keeper would attempt to flee to the old heart of his dungeon to re-establish his forces had not the seraph watched him closely, but the evil being's audacity was evident, and pride was now on the verge of being Tamrael's defeat as well. He should have known that any remote chance of escape would be the first point of attack, known that the keeper would subtly do anything to distract the seraph. In the heat of the moment Tamrael was forced to make a rash decision. Withdrawing as much magic as he could, he removed himself from the portal's spell matrix, ripping a wide gap into the forces. Even before he did so it had been beyond their skills to turn it into a stable portal, he was sure of that, but now they could merely protect themselves; perhaps not even that. It would, with a great deal of luck, grant no more than a single person entry to the frightful world that rested far beneath their feet before collapsing entirely. It didn't take long for the keeper to notice the changes, and his madman's grin quickly turned into a frown of utter dismay. He too broke from the pattern, and without hesitation he leapt towards the opening before him. It was all Tamrael could do to mirror his movements and pray he was to reach the centre first. In the blind darkness that they had created he clawed in front of himself, seeking to push back the keeper. In a last desperate move he forced all magic into his thrust, barely feeling that he shoved something away, and then… darkness.

Vertigo took hold of him and forced him to what he thought were his knees. He felt distorted and twisted. His own body felt like nothing more than an infinitely large cloud energy, drifting without a sense of time or place. He didn't know whether seconds or years passed, until all of a sudden he begun to take a physical shape once again. An excruciatingly painful experience. And as soon as he was sure his head was in one piece once again, it was struck by something hard. The smell of cold clay, stale air and ancient blood filled his nose. In the distant he heard a slow, steady beat. Darkness enveloped his mind.

_Author's Note:_

_Right, I know this chapter is rather lackluster in terms of events and writing. Quite frankly, I personally despise it, but it had to be done. With this piece of the 'introduction' out of the way I can now finally get started on the interesting pieces. That is, if there is any interest at all. Again I really request that someone leave some feedback. Believe, a single review will probably be enough to spark my interest in writing at least another two chapters (probably each a few 1000 words long)._

_As for the current state of this; you can probably tell my writing style is undergoing quite a few changes. Mostly a result of further reading and education. I really want to continue this piece, but ultimately something is written so it can be read, and thus far my other projects (which aren't on this site) have been receiving a lot more interest than this, which is a pitty, as I truely enjoy the world of Dungeon Keeper._


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